Tunnels
by Petroica traversi
Summary: He gave off a weird vibe of sort of reluctant confidence that Christophe found appealing, like he knew he was a little odd, but couldn't quite bring himself to care.  Tophlovski, yep.
1. Chapter 1

He wasn't sure why he crashed these high school parties. Boredom, perhaps, although he supposed maybe, just maybe there was some part of him that was lonely and wanted to feel like a normal teenager, for once. Of all the words that could be used to describe Christophe, "normal" definitely did not make the list, however, maybe sometimes it was fun to pretend, he mused.

Or maybe that wasn't it at all. Despite hating nearly everyone he'd ever met, Christophe really did enjoy people watching. There was a lot you could learn by just sitting back in a crowded room, observing the people around you. Most of all, it made him glad that he tended to remain uninvolved in the bullshit teenage shenanigans that went on at these parties. Drunken girls wearing too much makeup, throwing themselves at drunken boys who spent the whole evening posturing, trying to look tough and macho for the drunken girls. Hook-ups, break-ups, the whole drama of people who were too young for these situations, trying desperately to act older than they really were. It made Christophe sick to his stomach, but he still snuck into these parties on occasion, hoping to quell whatever part of himself that told him to go. The part of him that said, "This time things will be different."

This particular party was at the biggest house in South Park. He'd been out on a walk when he'd noticed all the lights in the house on, the crowds of people around his own age loitering on the lawn, and heard the thumping bass, which called to him like a siren's song.

He entered the house without hesitation, figuring if nothing else he could steal a few beers and be on his way. The living room was packed. There were one or two couples dancing in front of the massive stereo, and there were a few couples making good use of the sofas against the walls, but most of the kids inside were milling around in small groups, talking and sipping from their red, plastic cups. They were all people he'd seen around town, but most of whom he'd never spoken to before.

He slipped through the crowd, trying to find the kitchen, being careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone. The last thing he needed was to get into some trivial conversation with one of these idiots.

He found the keg, and poured himself a drink, receiving a suspicious look from a pretty girl with black hair, who was standing nearby, her arms around a tall, good looking young man.

"Who are you?" she asked kind of snottily, stepping away from the boy she was with, who only looked at Christophe curiously.

"I am no one," Christophe answered, setting his beer on the counter and fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. She scowled at him as he went to light it.  
>"Well, no one," she said, "You can't smoke in the house. Token is going to be really pissed if he sees you!"<p>

He lit it anyway, watching as the expression on her face changed from annoyed to furious. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but he brushed her off with a wave of his hand.

"Fine, fine," he said, grabbing his beer and heading toward the back door. As much as he hated being bossed around, he wasn't really in the mood to argue with anyone.

He slipped outside, surprised to find that the back yard was nearly silent; empty, save for a skinny redheaded boy who was sitting on the porch railing with an unlit cigarette in his hand.

"Got a light?" he asked as Christophe went to sit a chair across from him, "One of my friends stole mine."

"Sure," Christophe said, setting his beer on a patio table and walking over to light the boy's cigarette himself, instead of just handing him his lighter. The boy smiled a bit at the oddly chivalrous act, as Christophe studied his face. He was good looking, in sort of an unconventional way, with a short, frizzy poof of hair, and designer glasses perched on his long nose. He looked vaguely familiar, though Christophe couldn't place where they might have met. He never socialized with kids in South Park.

Through with his inspection, Christophe pulled away and sat back in a chair across from the boy and sipped his beer.

"I know you from somewhere," said the boy, still smiling a little.

"Do you?"

"Hmm, yeah," he answered, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "But I'm not sure where... Obviously you don't go to school with us, cause I'd know you if you did. Small classes and all that. What's your name?"

Christophe stared at him thoughtfully, wondering if he should give the kid his real name. He gave off a weird vibe of sort of reluctant confidence that Christophe found appealing, like he knew he was a little odd, but couldn't quite bring himself to care.

"Christophe," he answered, finally.

"Huh. Don't think I know any Christophes. I'm Kyle," the boy said.

Christophe sat for a minute, staring at him and trying to remember any Kyles he might have met over the years.

"Oh," he said, finally, "La Resistance, yeah?"

"Yeah... Oh. OH! The Mole, right? That was you?"

Christophe laughed and nodded. No one had called him that in years, not since he and Gregory had stopped speaking to each other.

"Yeah, that was me," he said.

Kyle grinned at him around his cigarette.

"Dude, that was what? Like 8 or 9 years ago? Do you still live in South Park? I kind of can't believe I haven't seen you in that long."

"Well, maybe you 'ave but just didn't realize it," Christophe said, chucking his cigarette butt into the yard, not really caring where it landed. "I am, ah, good at not being seen by people, if you know what I mean."

"On purpose, or by accident?"

"Oh, both? I guess it depends on the circumstances, maybe," Christophe said, reaching for his beer and taking big gulps from it. He was way too sober for this philosophical shit.

"I can understand that," Kyle said, thoughtfully, "I like to blend in most of the time... the less attention I get from most people, the happier I am. But I don't know... there's some people whose attention I'd really like, but I'm mostly invisible to them, too, I think."

They both turned to look as the back door slid open, and the tall boy from the kitchen stepped out.

"Here you are," he said, looking at Kyle.

"Oh, hey Stan," Kyle said, his whole face lighting up, "Do you remember Christophe? Or, the Mole, rather? I think you guys didn't get along too well back then, if I'm remembering correctly." He grinned at Christophe as he said this.

"Who?" Stan said, checking his phone, not really paying attention.

"The Mole," Kyle said, sitting up straighter, "He helped us that time we had to rescue Terrance and Phillip from the army, remember?"

"You mean when we had to rescue Terrance and Phillip from your mom, you mean?" Stan said, grinning, but still looking at his phone.

"Right, well, technicalities," Kyle said, waving his hand through the air, dismissing Stan's statement, "He doesn't look familiar to you at all?"

"Nope," Stan said, finally pocketing his phone, "But then, we all don't have crazy photographic memories, do we?"

"Stan," Kyle sighed, seeming exasperated, "I don't have a photographic memory, I just pay attention to things."

Christophe sat silently through this whole display, lighting another cigarette as he studied Kyle's body language. He'd seemed excited when Stan first came out, but his posture grew increasingly bad as the conversation carried on, as if it wasn't quite going the way he'd hoped. He leaned sort of pathetically on the porch beam next to him as the dark-haired girl from before joined Stan on the porch, wrapping an arm around his waist as he smiled down at her.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked Stan.

"Oh, just checking in with Kyle. Ready to go back in?" he asked the girl, running his fingers through her long, dark hair.

She giggled at leaned up to kiss him, not even sparing a glance at Christophe or Kyle.

"Whenever you are," she said, sweetly.

"Kay," Stan said, and finally looked back at Kyle, "Make sure you come say bye to me before you leave, ok dude?"

He allowed himself to be pulled back inside without waiting for Kyle to respond. Kyle sat there for a moment, looking dejected, before chucking his cigarette butt into the yard and reaching into his jacket pocket for another.

"Can I trouble you for a light, again?"

"Sure," Christophe said, moving over and sitting down next to Kyle on the porch railing. He lit his cigarette for him, watching his face as he took a drag. He wasn't sure why he was so interested in this boy. Most teenagers bored him to tears, especially when it came to their meaningless relationship woes. But there was something about Kyle that was intriguing to him. He was obviously intelligent, but not obnoxious about it, and he seemed like the kind of person who was used to the dull loneliness that being your own person earned you at their age. It was rare for Christophe to find anyone even remotely interesting, but somehow Kyle was. He wanted to know him better.

"Want to get out of 'ere?" Christophe asked.

Kyle looked up at him in surprise, but didn't answer for a minute, watching Christophe with suspicion.

"And do what, exactly?"

"Go for a walk or something. You don't look like you're enjoying yourself, and I've 'ad enough of the crowd."

Kyle shrugged, but stood up to follow Christophe as he walked around the side of the house. They walked down the sidewalk, Kyle silent beside Christophe with a look of confusion on his face. He looked at Christophe with a tight smile on his face when he realized he was being watched.

"I only come to these stupid parties for him, you know," Kyle said finally, staring at his shoes as they walked, "Stan, I mean. He's my best friend, you know? And every single time he ditches me for Wendy," he paused and took another drag off his cigarette, "I mean, I get that she's his girlfriend and all but he always spends the entire week convincing me to come with him when someone has a party, and every single time he ditches me within the first ten minutes. It's stupid."

"Maybe 'e thinks you will make new friends?"

"With who? I know all those people, dude. I've known them all since Kindergarten. There's nothing new I can learn about any of them."

"Well," Christophe said, smirking, "Maybe it won't always be the same people at these parties."

"Yeah but who – Oh, I get it. Cute," Kyle said, looking a little angry, "The mysterious Frenchman is supposed to show up and sweep me off my feet, is that it?"

"Well, no, but maybe 'e is right. Maybe talking to new people would be good for you? Because, I am sorry to say, but being in love with your obviously straight friend probably isn't good for you."

He watched with satisfaction as anger swept across Kyle's face, only to be replaced with sad resignation as he went back to studying his shoes. He loved it when he read people correctly.

"How did you know?" Kyle asked, softly, not looking at him.

"I'm sure it's obvious to anyone who pays attention. Your body language gives everything away."

"How so?"

"Oh, your posture, the expressions on your face, just how you react in general. I doubt any of your high school compatriots even notice. I just 'appen to be good at reading people."

"Oh, well you're wrong about that. I think everyone knows how I feel about Stan except Stan himself. I get ripped on for it all the time, and he just sort of laughs it off like it's some big joke."

"Well, maybe 'e knows, but 'e is not comfortable with it."

Kyle sighed heavily. "Yeah, maybe," he said, "Do you have best friend?"

"Ah, I did, once. But, I was in your same situation. I told 'im 'ow I felt, and 'e stopped talking to me. This was years ago."

Kyle stopped in his tracks, staring at Christophe dumbfounded, but whether it was because of Christophe's revelation or the thought that his best friend might do the same to him, Christophe wasn't sure.

"I see," he said, after a moment, and started walking again.

"Yes, so. Maybe it is better if you try to move on, I think."

"Hm," said Kyle, mulling this over, "So uh, where are we going, anyway?"

"My place."

"Your place?"

"Yes."

Kyle was eying him warily again. Christophe wondered if he was enough of a narcissist to think everyone wanted him, or if he was just naturally suspicious.

"Ok," Kyle said, "but I'm not sleeping with you."

Christophe laughed and lit another cigarette.

"It hadn't even crossed my mind," he said, lying.

X

A/N Hi, yeah, starting another fic before I finish up my Style one. Sorry, to anyone who is reading that. I swear I will finish it.


	2. Chapter 2

Christophe didn't like to make plans, at least when it came to social situations. On jobs he planned everything out to the minute, but he knew that when it came to interacting with other people, plans nearly always went awry. So to say his evening didn't go exactly as planned wouldn't be an accurate statement, per se. No, it would be more appropriate to say he'd had hopes for what he and Kyle might get up to in his apartment, and his hopes had been dashed.

They'd wound up sitting on his sofa together, watching a shitty movie and drinking coffee, talking about life, the universe, and everything. He'd turned to Kyle several times, with every intention of kissing him, but the boy had only shifted uncomfortably when he felt Christophe's eyes upon him. He'd kept his guard up the entire evening, but must not have been too uncomfortable, because it wasn't until some time after 4am that he turned to Christophe and said, "I really should be getting home," although he didn't move for several more minutes, seemingly content to lie draped across the arm of Christophe's sofa, his eyelids drooping.

Christophe rose when he did, eventually, and followed him to the door.

"Give me your phone," he said, as Kyle reached for the doorknob.

"Why?" he asked, turning back around, but he was already pulling his phone out of his pocket. Christophe grabbed it from his hand.

"You are walking 'ome alone at nearly 5am, and you are tired. I want you to text me when you get 'ome so I know you didn't get 'it by a train or something," he said, putting his number into Kyle's contact list.

Kyle just stared at him tiredly, taking his phone back when Christophe was done and returning it to his pocket. They stood there for a minute, Kyle with his hand on the doorknob, his face slowly turning red as Christophe stared back, wondering if he should try and kiss him again. Just as he was considering trying it, Kyle finally turned the knob on the apartment door, and stammered out something about texting when he got home before slamming it behind him. Christophe could hear his footsteps retreating quickly down the hall.

Yeah, Christophe's hopes had been dashed. But thirty minutes later he got a text from an unknown number, which said, "I'm home. Didn't get hit by any trains," and he laughed to himself as he stored the number in his phone. At least the night wasn't a total failure.

XXX

It was about a week later, late on Friday night, when Kyle called him. He didn't hint at his surprise when he answered the phone.

"Hey," Kyle said, sounding unsure of himself, "Um, Stan dragged me to another stupid party, and I'm bored. Want to come hang out?"

Christophe was taken aback at how excited this made him. He'd thought about Kyle a lot that week, but he figured it was out of sheer boredom, since he'd only had one job since Saturday.

The party turned out to be at the house of Eric Cartman, someone whose name made Christophe simultaneously want to stab someone in the face, and hide under his bed. The memory of being torn apart by dogs was almost enough to keep Christophe from going, but he wanted to see Kyle, so ten minutes later he was parking his truck on Cartman's street. He could hear the party in full swing as let himself into the house, wandering through the crowds until he found Kyle in the kitchen, doing shots with a somewhat scraggly-looking blonde boy.

"Hey!" he shouted cheerfully when he noticed Christophe approaching him.

"Are you drunk?" Christophe asked, as Kyle moved closer to him, swaying a little when he stopped.

"Yeah, a little. Kenny here's been making me drink with him," he said, gesturing to the blonde boy. "Oh, you haven't met Kenny, have you?"

Christophe shook his head, but Kenny only gave him a brief glance before turning his attention to a redheaded girl near him.

"He's trying to get laid," Kyle sad, leaning in close enough that Christophe could smell the vodka he'd been drinking.

Christophe wanted to taste that vodka on his lips, but knew that if Kyle didn't want him to kiss him in the privacy of his apartment, he definitely wouldn't be keen on the idea in a room crowded with his fellow students.

"Want to do a shot with me?" Christophe suggested instead.

Kyle agreed with enthusiasm, and they had done two together by the time the object of Kyle's unrequited affection wandered into the kitchen, with his girlfriend following him like a shadow.

"Oh, hey Kyle," Stan said, reaching for a bottle of flavored rum, "Having fun? Me and Wendy are going to do a shot."

"With that girly shit?" Kyle asked with a look of disdain on his face.

"Yeah, well, Wendy likes this girly shit, so I guess so."

Kyle said nothing, just watched as Stan poured out two shots, handing one to Wendy. They clinked them together, and did the shots simultaneously, smiling at each other as they finished. Stan laughed at the grimace on Wendy's face, and pulled her close, kissing her on the forehead.

"Don't be a wuss," he said to her, and she laughed and slapped him on the arm, before retreating from the kitchen. Stan looked over at Kyle and grinned, as if the whole thing was some inside joke between the two of them.

"Anyway," he said, setting the shot glass back on the counter and patting Kyle on the back, "See you later!"

"Later," Kyle said sadly, staring at Stan's empty shot glass. He stood motionless for a moment, before turning back to Christophe.

"I need a cigarette," he said, "And maybe to get the fuck out of here."

"Ok," Christophe agreed, and let Kyle lead him out the front door, both of them lighting cigarettes along the way, ignoring the looks Kyle's classmates were giving them.

"Come on," Christophe said, pulling at Kyle's arm, steering him to where he'd parked his truck, "Let's go for a drive."

"Are you sober enough to drive?" Kyle asked, wobbling a little, "Because I, personally, am pretty fucking drunk."

"Two shots is not nearly enough to get me drunk," Christophe said, holding open the passenger door for Kyle, who smiled at him drunkenly as he climbed in.

Christophe walked around to the driver's side, watching as Kyle inspected the interior of his truck.

"Why do you have blankets in your back... seat... area?" he asked, when Christophe opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. Christophe shrugged.

"I do a lot of driving, and I would 'ate to be stranded in my truck without a way to keep warm. Plus I take a lot of naps in the truck bed."

Kyle just nodded at this, pulling one of the blankets from the back and wrapping it around himself as best as he could with the seatbelt restraining him. He pulled a corner of the blanket up over his face, inhaling deeply.

"Your blanket smells good," Kyle said, as Christophe pulled away from the curb.

"It probably smells like me," he said, smirking.

"Oh, well, you smell good, then," Kyle answered, leaning over and sniffing at him.

"How drunk are you?" he asked with a laugh. This didn't even seem like the same boy he'd had in his apartment.

"Pretty drunk! I told you that already! I had like five shots before you showed up at the party, and I'm kind of a lightweight. Where are we going, anyway?"

"I don't know. Wherever you want."

After some debate, Christophe found himself sitting in the bed of his truck, wrapped in a blanket next to Kyle, gazing at the stars. They'd driven away from town for half an hour before finding a scenic overlook to pull into, shutting off the headlights so the visibility would be better, although they kept ruining their ability to see in the dark by lighting cigarettes. Kyle was nosily rooting through the backpack Christophe always kept in his car, in case of emergencies, using his lighter for a flashlight. He'd already pulled out the snack foods and bottles of water Christophe had stored in there, as well as the extra packs of cigarettes, but under those he was starting to find things that Christophe didn't want anyone seeing. Still, he didn't try to stop Kyle, knowing he was the kind of person who would just keep pushing until he got his way.

"Why do you have old copies of Zoobooks in here?" he asked.

Christophe shifted, uncomfortable at Kyle's discovery. He knew he had kind of a bad boy image, and he liked it that way. If he told Kyle the truth, his softer side would be revealed.

"Um," he said, taking a drag on his cigarette, "I stole them?"

"You stole someone's old, beaten-up copies of Zoobooks? Why?"

Christophe shrugged, adamantly refusing to look at Kyle, or answer his question. Kyle stared at him for a minute, then went back to digging in the bag. He pulled out Christophe's spare set of clothes, smirking at the underwear, but sat unmoving as he saw the last item in the bag: the one thing Christophe wanted most to keep hidden. He reached in and gently pulled out a small, old, worn blanket with a giraffe print on it.

"...Is this a baby blanket?"

"No," Christophe said, chucking his cigarette butt into the dirt under his truck. Kyle stared at him for a minute.

"This is totally a baby blanket," he said, spreading it out across his lap, "Why do you have a baby blanket?"

"I killed a baby, stole its blanket and its Zoobooks, ok?" he said, glaring at Kyle.

"Huh, well that baby must have used the hell out of this blanket, then. It looks about 20 years old."

When Christophe didn't respond, Kyle shifted closer to him, until Christophe felt his thigh pressing up against his own.

"Know what I think?"

He felt Kyle's breath against his neck, and turned to look at him. Their faces were only inches apart. He shook his head, slowly, not breaking eye contact.

"I think these are your things. You said this was your emergency bag, yeah? I think these are things you can't live without. Your baby blanket, and your... Zoobooks?" he said, pulling back with a confused look on his face, "I don't get the Zoobooks, actually."

Christophe sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I like animals, ok? I didn't 'ave a lot of friends when I was a kid, and my relationship with my mother was shitty, so I read these things all the time. They made me 'appy. Ok?"

A smile came slowly to Kyle's face, and Christophe was surprised when he leaned over and planted a chaste kiss near his mouth. He pulled back, flushed with embarrassment, but Christophe leaned in to kiss him in turn. Kyle's jaw dropped in surprise, and Christophe used that moment to push his tongue into his mouth. There was a terrifying second before Kyle reacted, in which Christophe could have sworn his heart stopped, but then Kyle responded, weaving his fingers into Christophe's hair and kissing back passionately. He was sighing and making little sounds in the back of his throat, and Christophe had to stop himself from rolling over onto him and grinding their hips together through the blankets.

Apparently Kyle had no such inhibitions, because after a few moments he threw his blanket off, throwing one leg across Christophe's lap and pulling himself over to straddle him, still kissing him hungrily. Christophe grabbed him by the hips as he enthusiastically ground himself on his lap, moaning as Christophe's hands moved down to his ass. Christophe could feel the heat radiating through Kyle's clothes, and the sweat on his palms as he gripped his shoulders, but when Christophe put a hand up the back of his shirt, he pushed himself away, pulling out of the kiss.

"Fuck, wait, wait, wait, this isn't good," he said, panting.

"Feels pretty good to me," Christophe said, trying his best not to pull Kyle's mouth back against his own.

"Ok, well, that's nice and all, but did you miss the part where I'm drunk, and I'm totally in love with my best friend? I can't do this," he said with a sigh.

Christophe regretfully let him move off his lap, knowing he was right, at least about the drunk part. He didn't have too many rules about sex, but he knew doing it with someone too drunk to give proper consent was a no-no. He didn't speak as Kyle sat back down next to him.

"I'm sorry," Kyle said, "I don't really know what I'm doing."

Christophe shook his head, "No, you are right. I'm not going to, ah, pressure you or anything."

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, peering shyly up at Christophe.

Christophe laughed and ran his hand over his face.

"I'm not mad," he said, truthfully, "Sexually frustrated, maybe."

Kyle smiled at this, and moved closer, wrapping a hand around Christophe's arm as he leaned against him.

"I like you a lot," he said, "...I really am sorry. I'm just confused right now."

"Kyle," Christophe said.

"What?"

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry," he said.

Christophe just laughed.

X

A/N: Hellooooo. Ok. So.

A. I happen to like that girly flavored rum too, so, whatever, Kyle. You and your booze snobbery.

B. Don't drink and drive, kids, blah blah blah.

C. Getting more than one review on this chapter would make me soooooooooo happy. Even if it's just, like, "Hey Sarah, more dry humping, please!" Or something. I wrote this chapter instead of doing my homework, so... you're welcome?

D. A big special extra thank you to my friends on Tumblr for giving me suggestions as to what I should put in Christophe's bag. Even the suggestions I didn't use were great, so, thank you guys. You rock!


	3. Chapter 3

When Christophe wasn't working, he was bored. And lately when he was bored, he called Kyle and invited him over. They'd gotten into a routine of watching shitty TV together, sometimes while high, or hopped up on the copious amounts of caffeine from the coffee Christophe always made, but they were always content to sit together, making fun of bad commercials and ripping apart the gaping plot holes in nearly everything they put on. Christophe was surprised to find himself glad to have the company, but he was frustrated that Kyle was sending him such mixed signals. He would allow Christophe to kiss him until they were panting and rubbing against each other, only to push him away when Christophe tried to go any farther, and offering absolutely no explanation for his change of heart. But Christophe could take a pretty good guess at why Kyle kept pushing him away... He found himself growing more and more fond of the redheaded boy, but increasingly irritated with Kyle's obsession with his best friend. He talked about him a lot, and was always particularly morose when Stan would blow him off to spend time with his girlfriend.

Christophe had always been very practical, and had always been able to work around his more "irrational" emotions, if he wasn't able to banish them completely. Even when Gregory had broken his heart, he'd simply picked up the pieces and moved on, finding other things to take care of instead of letting himself be miserable. So for someone as intelligent and strong as Kyle to wallow in self-pity over someone who would obviously never return his feelings was completely bewildering to Christophe. Especially when Christophe kept throwing himself at him, knowing full well that Kyle returned at least some of his feelings. Just not enough of them to forget about Stan, apparently.

After a few weeks of this routine, Kyle called him late one Saturday night, very, very drunk, and sobbing. Apparently he'd drunkenly tried to kiss Stan at a party. Apparently Stan hadn't appreciated it in the slightest, and had avoided him for the rest of the night. After trying to apologize several times, and eventually being told off by Wendy, Kyle had turned to Christophe for comfort.

"Why doesn't he like me?" Kyle sobbed over the phone.

"'e's straight, Kyle. And 'e 'as a girlfriend," was Christophe's impatient reply.

Kyle didn't respond to this, and Christophe listened to him cry for several more minutes before he spoke again.

"Am I just your back-up guy? For when Stan rejects your sloppy advances?" he asked.

"No! Yes. I don't know. I'm drunk. I'm sorry. This is so fucked up."

Christophe agreed with that whole-heartedly.

"Well, that's kind of shitty, really. I don't want to be the person you take advantage of just because you're feeling sad."

"I'm not taking advantage of you, though!" Kyle shouted emphatically, "You like me!"

"Yes, Kyle, I like you," he admitted, "Which is why you calling me only when you're not getting what your little heart desires is cruel to me! Figure out what the fuck you want, and stop fucking around with me, ok?"

He hung up the phone without waiting for Kyle's response.

X

He didn't hear from Kyle for two months. It was a Saturday afternoon, some time around May when the school year was over, or nearly over, or something, and Christophe was surprised to find Kyle hunched over in front of his apartment door as he came home from running errands. He had apparently been there a while, because he was asleep, his chin resting on his knees. Christophe nudged at him with his boot, smirking as he awoke with a start.

"Oh shit," he said sleepily, "What time is it?"

"Time for you to go 'ome, I think," Christophe replied, unlocking his apartment door and pushing past Kyle. He wasn't in the mood for another Stan-related sob fest.

"I'm not going home," Kyle said, scrambling off the floor and following Christophe into the kitchen, "I came to talk to you."

"Oh, well, I sure do feel special."

"Don't be an asshole," Kyle said, scowling.

Christophe sighed and set down the bag of groceries he was carrying. He looked over at Kyle, whose face was slowly turning red. He looked angry, and a little defeated.

"Look," he said, "I came here to apologize, ok?"

"Ok," Christophe said, and stared at Kyle expectantly, "Go ahead."

Kyle flushed, and gave Christophe a dirty look.

"You aren't making this easy," he said.

"I'm not trying to."

"Christ, were you always this much of a dick?" Kyle muttered, seemingly to himself, "Alright, well... Um. I'm sorry?"

"For what?" Christophe asked, crossing his arms. He was enjoying this a little too much.  
>"For being an asshole to you, ok? It wasn't fair of me to lead you on, or to come crying to you every time Stan upset me. I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and you're right. I was being cruel. So, I'm sorry."<p>

Christophe watched him for a moment, taking in the expression on his face. He did seem regretful, but Christophe couldn't be sure just yet.

"Did you and Stan 'ave a fight or something?" he asked, "Is that why you are 'ere?"

"No," said Kyle, looking really angry, "For your information, he hasn't spoken to me much at all since that party. It's been really awkward, ok? I've been spending most of my time alone, actually, and it's given me a lot of time to think."

"About what?" Christophe asked, genuinely curious. Kyle seemed to do a lot of thinking, and yet very rarely divulged what was going on in his head.  
>"You, and what happened between you and your former best friend. And Stan and me. And ….you and me, I guess," Kyle said, fidgeting as Christophe slowly approached him, "Um.. I just... I mean, I think you were right. I was stupid to be so hung up on Stan. It's been hard for me, because, you know, we've been best friends our whole lives, and I thought... well, I don't know what I thought. I guess I just hoped maybe he'd some day see me the way I saw him."<p>

"Saw?" Christophe said, running his fingers up Kyle's arm.

"Hm?"

"You said saw. Past tense."

"Oh. Well. The way he's treated me since I stupidly tried to kiss him has been kind of eye-opening. I mean, I get that he's uncomfortable, but he wouldn't even let me talk to him about what happened. I mean, if he's willing to just throw 16 years of friendship away because of one stupid mistake, then maybe he isn't who I thought he was, you know?"

"So, what," Christophe said, running his hands from Kyle's arms to his back, "You guys are just... done? Not friends anymore?"

"Well, I hope not," Kyle said, shivering slightly as Christophe's fingers moved under his shirt, "Stop that, will you?"

Christophe sighed, pulling away, and set about putting the groceries he'd brought home away.

"Um. Well I didn't mean you had to..."

"No," Christophe said, "I need to put this shit in the fridge, anyway."

"Oh. Well. Um. Yeah, I actually really hope Stan and I can fix our friendship. I mean... he's been there for me through a lot of shit. I just... I guess I've just realized I should stop wasting my time pining after him."  
>"Hm," was Christophe's only response.<p>

"And anyway... like I said. I've been thinking about you a lot, too. How shitty I was to you. And, um... how much I like you. I've missed hanging out and stuff."

"Yeah?" Christophe said, putting the milk away, and determinedly not looking at Kyle.

"Yeah. Um. You know. I've missed Stan a lot in the last few months, but I was kind of surprised how much I missed you, too. I mean, I liked just being around you, and having an unbiased person to talk to, and... um... the other stuff, too. I mean, not just that, of course. It was just nice to have someone around as cynical as me who didn't make me feel like a total asshole for not thinking the world is all sunshine and rainbows. Uh, fuck, I'm totally rambling, but that's what I wanted to tell you," he said, looking embarrassed.

Christophe closed the fridge door, and stood, staring at Kyle, wondering what he should do. He decided to ask the question that had been on his mind since the first time he kissed Kyle.

"Why do you freak out every time I put my hand under your shirt?"

"What?" Kyle said, startled, "Where did that even come from? I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you."

"It's just something I've noticed, and it seems odd to me. Every time we'd kiss you always seemed really into it, but the second I put my fingers under your shirt, you'd freak out. Like just now. I tried to touch your waist, and you became flustered. Why?"

"Um," Kyle said, his eyes watering a little, "I just... I don't want you to see..." he trailed off, staring at the floor.

"What?" Christophe asked, "You 'ave zits? You're really, really 'airy? What are you so worried about?"

"Can we just get back on the subject here?"

"I think we were done with that conversation anyway," Christophe said, "I like you, you like me, you're sorry you were being a dick, Stan is a bad friend, et cetera. Let's move on, shall we? What is so 'orrible about your body that you won't let me see it?"

Kyle just glared at him for a minute, before slowly pulling the hem of his shirt up. He revealed a large scar that started a few inches under his right rib, and wrapped around his side to his back.

"I had a kidney transplant when I was a kid," he explained, "and I hate this scar. Ok? I'm not comfortable with anyone seeing it, much less touching it."

Christophe stared at him blankly for a moment, before laughing.

"What the hell is so funny?" Kyle shouted, clearly offended. He scrambled to pull his shirt back down over the scar, and crossed his arms over his chest, hunched over self-consciously.

Christophe pulled up his own shirt to reveal the patchwork of scars that were scattered sporadically across his body. He watched as Kyle's eyes darted across his torso, his jaw dropping open slightly. Instead of turning away in disgust as Christophe might have expected, he stared intently until his face became flushed, and he licked his lips before averting his eyes.

"Well, that's not... I mean... they look good on you," Kyle sputtered at him.

"Yeah?" Christophe asked, slowly pulling his shirt down. He watched as Kyle's eyes followed the movement of the fabric.

"Um. I should... I should go," he said nervously.

"Why?"

"Because you're busy."

"No I'm not," said Christophe, approaching Kyle once more.

He heard Kyle's sharp intake of breath, as he flattened himself against the wall, unable to draw back any farther.

"What are you so nervous about?" Christophe asked him.

"I'm not nervous," Kyle said.

"You're shaking," said Christophe, settling his hands on Kyle's hips, "You are obviously nervous about something."

"I just-oh," he gasped, as Christophe began to plant gentle kisses along his neck, "Um. Fuck. I just, I thought I was more ready for this than I am, I think."

"Ready for what?"

"You know... whatever... you had in mind."

"Who said I 'ad anything in mind?" Christophe asked, pulling away slightly and regarding Kyle's flushed face.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you've wanted to fuck me since that first night we hung out," he responded, his face turning bright red.

"True," Christophe admitted, "but I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do. You certainly 'ave proven adept at turning me down, anyway, so I don't know what you're so worried about."

Kyle laughed nervously fiddling with the bottom of Christophe's shirt.

"You know I'm a virgin," he said, not making eye contact.

"I 'ad guessed as much, yeah," Christophe said.

"I've never even... um... I mean... I've never done anything but kiss. You know? I just figured you should know that," Kyle said, his face turning redder still.

"I told you, I'm not going to pressure you to do something you're not ready for," Christophe answered, running his fingers through Kyle's hair.

Kyle nodded, still staring at his shoes. "Can, um. Can we go to your room?"

Christophe laughed under his breath, placing kisses on Kyle's forehead, before taking his hand and pulling him down the hall.

XXXX

Ok, sorry for the long wait, and sorry for the short chapter, too. I was bogged down doing my SPBB fic, and had a major death in the family, and then when I went to work on this I got some hardcore writer's block. So I figured I'd give you guys what I have at least, so I don't get lynched by my readers. =p

But if you're into Gregstophe or Style or WWII or just my writing you should go to and look for my fic on there. I worked my ass off for it, and it's definitely the best thing I've written. And it's got GORGEOUS art to go with it. And if you read it, I'd LOVE some feedback. No reviews hurts my precious little feelings.

Anyway, I'll TRY to get the next chapter up before too long, but no promises. Finals are coming up, fast. But there will be smut next time. I promise.


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